


Not a Total Loss

by valkyrish



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Hangover, Light-Hearted, Meet-Cute, SpaceMarriedWeek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrish/pseuds/valkyrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanan is going nowhere until he crashes into his destiny. Then again, maybe it's just a fender bender.</p><p>Written for #Spacemarriedweek on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Total Loss

Was 9:30 too early for a drink? That was the only way to cure a pounding hangover like this one.

A spring jabbed at Kanan’s back as he sank into the worn driver’s seat of the car. He could barely stretch out his legs in the two-seater, and the broken cover of the center console dug into his thigh.

Pushing his sunglasses out of the way, he rubbed his temples, then his eyes. Maybe with enough pressure on the sockets, he could force his brain back into his skull.

He blinked a few times to clear out the stars, then replaced his sunglasses. Why were the headlights in his rear view mirror so bright? Even the stop lights were blinding. Why was he out this early again?

Oh, right. Vizago was “nice” enough to let him crash on his couch, but his “courtesy” had expired about 15 minutes ago. Funny how he was only charitable when Kanan was doing his dirty work. 

It was just as well. Kanan didn’t like spending any more time in that roach-infested hellhole than was necessary. One of the few perks of being an unsavory type was that he could recognize other unsavory types right away, and the criminals that passed through Vizago’s place made Kanan look like a monk. Kanan made no qualms about being a scoundrel, but he swore he would never be one of _them_.

_Yeah, 9:30 is definitely too early for a drink._

Hopefully, Vizago wouldn’t miss one of his cars for a day. If Kanan was lucky, he’d have it back before his “boss” even woke up. But he’d fill up the tank and take care of some business on the way, just in case.

Just a few more months and he could get out of this city. Maybe he’d go to the mountains next.

The stench of rotting eggs sent a wave of nausea through his system and Kanan groaned. A little fresh mountain air would be a welcome change. He couldn’t roll up the windows or turn off the vents; if he didn’t have air blowing on him, he was definitely going to throw up. Maybe even die.

It was just another reason being a Jedi was overrated; he couldn’t even alleviate a simple hangover.

Another red light caught him off guard and he slammed his foot on the brake. The car lurched, tires struggling to come to a stop.

 _Making use of those killer reflexes_ , he thought, groaning in pain. Seven years without practice (and countless shots of whiskey the night before) would leave anyone rough around the edges.

The sudden stop had forced his brain to the front of his skull, or it least it felt that way. He popped the glove compartment open and rummaged around for a painkiller, but all he found were ancient condiment packs, empty cigarette cartons, and spent air fresheners (which hadn’t done anything, given the fact that the entire car reeked of stale smoke). 

_Come on, Jarrus, would you really take a random pill you found in Vizago’s car?_

He was desperate, but not that desperate.

A flash of a green in his peripheral vision made him creep forward, but he realized it was just the green arrow for the adjacent turn lane. He put the car into reverse and retreated from the intersection, shaking his head.

When his light finally turned green, he stepped on the gas, rolling backward as the car behind him rolled forward. He heard the squeal of brakes behind him but the vehicles collided with a resounding _crunch_ , followed by the tinkle of shattering headlights.

Kanan swore as he hit the seat. The impact wasn’t hard enough for the airbag to deploy (assuming the beater even had a functioning airbag), but Vizago was definitely going to notice a smashed rear end.

But Vizago was the least of his problems. How could he be so careless? Crashing a “borrowed” car wasn’t going to help him stay under the radar.

He looked in the rear view to check on the driver behind him, but all he saw was an empty car. A _magnificent_ , empty car.

_Is that a **Ghost**? _

Kanan winced. It certainly put the rusty Expedient he was driving to shame. He hadn’t seen one since he was a Padawan, and never one this _pretty_.

Or at least it had been pretty. The nose was crumpled like a candy wrapper and the driver’s side lamp was in pieces on the ground. That was not going to be cheap to fix. He braced his forehead with his hand. There was no way the owner of a Ghost would just let this slide. 

Adrenaline pulsed within him even as his head throbbed. _Maybe I can just take off_ , he thought. He turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened.

Kanan slammed his hand against the steering wheel with a grunt. He groped in the open glove compartment for the fuel cut off switch, but resetting it changed nothing.

He peered out from under his hand to look for the driver again. They were facing away from him, surveying the damage, but he could see green head-tails hanging out from a cream-colored knit cap. From what he could see, the driver was a female twi'lek, maybe a bit younger than him, in a tan parka and jeans.

This had potential. He wasn’t on top of his game, but he could work with that, too. He closed his eyes, forcing his brain to fight (now that flight wasn’t an option).

He would tell her he had just caught his girlfriend with another man. A sob story to soften her up, play the pity angle. He could turn on the pouty, brooding charm and promise her that “his mechanic” would take care of it. He'd figure that part out later.

There was a voice in the distance, irate but lovely, and growing louder like a symphony crescendo. “Of all the days for this to happen. I’ll never make it in time for the test.”

Was it his imagination, or was his headache a little better? The lines he had planned died on his tongue as she talked to herself, and all he could do was focus on the melody.

An ear-splitting knock on the windshield shook him from his daydream.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

When he opened his eyes to see her up close, his lines went six feet underground. She leaned in close to the window. He could lose himself in those wide, livid eyes, or those full lips, curled up in doubt. As he stared, concern began to soften her expression, and he was melting.

“Wait, are you really hurt?” she asked.

Kanan could feel himself smiling, and he leaned back against the broken seat, blinking a few times to clear his head. _Pull yourself together_ , he thought, mustering what he hoped was a roguish smile.

“Sorry, I was just distracted by your beautiful face in my rear view mirror.” _Smooth._ He gripped the steering wheel to keep himself from slapping his forehead.

The scornful look was back. “You _must_ have hit your head if you thought that line was going to work. Are you drunk?”

It was a fair question. “I’m not drunk, it’s a migraine. It’s been a rough morning.”  

She cocked an eyebrow, translating _migraine_ to _hangover,_ and folded her arms across her chest. “Let me guess. You’ve got a stiff neck. A sore back? If this is an insurance scam, I’ve got very some bad news for you: my coverage is terrible.”

“What?” Kanan shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Are you all right?” That should have been his first question.

“I’m fine, but my car is not,” she said, her voice tight. “Maybe you aren’t aware, but this is a _‘55 Ghost_. I can’t just walk into any old megastore and get parts for it.”

Kanan winced again, taking off his sunglasses. So she knew _exactly_ what she had. “Yeah...I can pay for that.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “You mean your insurance can pay for that.” Kanan hunched his shoulders and gave her his most charming smile. She heaved a sigh and hung her head, almost smacking against the car. “You don’t have insurance, do you?”  

“Not exactly.” Now probably wasn’t the time to mention that he didn’t have a license, either.

The woman straightened and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, maybe we can figure something out. Give me your information.”

 _Beautiful and a bleeding heart_. Kanan brightened at the thought. Had he even had a hangover this morning? “I know my way around cars, you know. I could fix it for you."

She took a long look at his ride and wrinkled her nose. “No one touches my car but me.” There was an implied, ‘Especially not you.’

Kanan climbed out and stood next to her in the empty street. From this vantage point, the Ghost was a gorgeous, sparkling black, cleaned and maintained with care. He let out a low whistle. “Wow. I gotta say, it’s beautiful.”

“I know,” she snapped. She pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and backed away to snap a couple pictures of her car from different angles, letting out huffs and growls with each shot. “At least it _was_ beautiful until you smashed it. And here’s a tip: don’t try and sweet talk me when I’m taking pity on you.”

He frowned, following her to get a better look. Any frustration at getting shot down was dampened by the state of her car. The damage looked even worse up close, and another pang of guilt hit his stomach. Phone in hand, she tapped her foot and glared at him.

 _Right, information._ “My name is Kanan Jarrus.”

As soon as he told her his number, his phone rang in his pocket. When he pulled out his phone, the call was coming in from a private line. _She didn’t think I gave her a real number_ , he realized. It probably wasn’t a good time to pout about it.

"Good." She ended the call then snapped a few pictures of Vizago's car. “Now that I’ve got this documented, we need to make arrangements. Someone’s bound to come down this street eventually.”

The intersection wasn’t a busy one, but it was eerily deserted this morning. Kanan didn’t have time to worry about it, though, because he was too worried about where this conversation was going. It was only a matter of time before she called the police to file a report.

He needed a distraction. "What about your test? Shouldn't you call your professor or something?" 

The woman slapped a palm to her forehead. "The test!" She frowned at him but made the call, keeping her voice low. "Professor Trayvis? This is Hera, from your Politics 341 class. Someone hit my car on the way in this morning. No, I'm fine, but it could be a while..."

 _Hera._ Kanan raised his eyebrows, almost repeating her name aloud.

“Yes, of course I’ll file a police report,” she said, sounding much more patient than she had with him. Kanan kept a cool exterior but his mind went reeling. So much for his brilliant distraction. “Thank you for understanding, Professor. I’ll be in tomorrow to take the test.”

Hera hung up and growled, grinding a bit of broken curb under the sole of her boot. Before Kanan could begin to diffuse the situation, she spoke again.

“No way I’m calling the police.” She looked at her phone in disgust, then turned toward him. Her eyes followed his movements as he ran a finger over his goatee. 

“Why don’t you want to make a report?” he asked, keeping his tone light. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to involve the police. Still, Kanan had the feeling that there was more to it.

She sent him a glare that made him regret asking. “What, do you _want_ me to?”

“No!” His reply came out louder than he intended. He slapped a hand to his mouth, then ran his fingers down his jaw to cover up the gesture.

Hera, who was nearly as tall as he was, leaned in and narrowed her eyes. He was powerless under her glare, and words came spilling out before he could stop himself.

"Okay, technically this isn't my car.”

She drew back and her eyes went round. "You _stole_ it?"

"Not so loud!” he hissed, holding up his palms in defense. “It's my friend's car." That was close enough to the truth. Kanan didn't have friends to speak of, so Vizago almost qualified.

She arched a brow. "And does this ‘friend’ know you're driving their car?"

He rubbed his neck underneath his ponytail. "Yeah, no."

With a sigh, Hera shook her head, and for the first time in a long time, he felt ashamed. It was almost like this Hera, who talked like music and beat him at his own game, was disappointed in him. It shouldn’t have bothered him. No one had expected anything from him in years, and “borrowing” cars wasn’t even the most disappointing thing he did.

“Look, that’s my problem,” he said. “I told you, I can pay for your car. Let me call you a tow, and you can send me a bill for the parts.”

Hera laughed, but there was no humor in it. “What, you'll cut me a check? This isn’t my first go-around, Slick. I don’t believe you for a moment.”

“Hera. You wound me!” he said, placing a hand over his heart. She rolled her eyes. “I am not going to go back on my word. But I understand, you don’t know me.”

“Right. All you did was steal a car and drive it without insurance. Who wouldn’t trust someone with those stellar credentials?” She shot him a patronizing look and he shrugged in concession. She had him again.

Hera pulled out her phone to make another call. He used his own to search for cheap towing services, but kept an ear open as Hera spoke.  

“Zeb, I’m gonna need a favor. Some jackass hit my car.” She paused to send him another dagger-filled glare. “I _know_. Can you give me a tow? Don’t worry, he’s buying.”

He turned back to his phone. _OK, towing for one, then_. Maybe this Zeb who Hera trusted to tow her beloved Ghost could help him with his situation, too. He’d pay, of course. Somehow.

It was a long shot, seeing as Hera didn’t owe _him_ any favors. Kanan didn’t have a regular shop he went to, or even a garage—Vizago’s certainly wasn’t an option. He didn’t know the city that well, but if Hera didn’t trust the Empire, that was a point in her favor.

Thinking of the Empire reminded him that these cars had to come out of the middle of the street. He walked back to Vizago's car and put it in neutral. Shutting the door behind him, he glanced back at Hera.

“You got all the pictures you need?” he called.

She nodded absently in his direction, continuing her conversation. "I’m at the intersection of Cynda and Gorse. So you think, what, 20 minutes?” Another pause. “I really appreciate this.”

A lot could happen in 20 minutes. While she was busy, he started to push Vizago’s car out of the intersection. Two steps in, her panicked voice cut through his concentration.

“Are you crazy? You’re going to throw your back out!” Hera was coming for him at a run, waving her phone in the air. He wasn’t fooled this time; she just didn’t want to pay the medical bills.

“Aww, I appreciate your concern,” he said, pausing to put a hand over his heart. “But it's light as a feather. Give me a hand if you want, but we need to get these cars out of the intersection."

She ended her call and flipped her parka back to put her phone in her pocket. This time, he could have sworn he saw the handle of a blaster at her side, but it was covered in a flash. His thoughts drifted to his blaster and the _other_ object on his person, and he zipped up his jacket halfway.

Hera wasted no time in crouching down next to him, helping to push the crunched car to safety. He snuck a glance at her but she looked determinedly forward, mouth set in a focused frown. It was easier to move with two people.

“Will your car start?” he asked, once they had finished.

“Yes.” She turned back to her vehicle. “And thankfully, you managed to avoid destroying my tires.”

He opened his mouth to make a joke about being considerate that way, but Hera was already getting into her car. She crept it forward to park behind him, and got out.

 _Efficient._ He still needed to get his own tow arranged, and he hadn't even considered the repairs, or what either of them would drive in the meantime.

“So, you have a good shop?” he asked, plopping down on the hood of Vizago's car. She was slow to reply.

“I do. Don’t you?”

“Haven’t been here that long,” he replied. “Got any recommendations?”

She scrunched up her lips as if she had tasted something sour. "You sure it's worth fixing?" 

"I can either pay in credits or in blood," he replied. He made it sound like a joke but her cute expression turned into a frown.

The rumble of an engine sent Kanan's spine rigid. Hera's head snapped in his direction a split second later. The engine got louder and Hera's fingers twitched, turning his thoughts again to her blaster. Now, he was certain the Empire had something on Hera, too. He hoped neither of them would need to raise a weapon.  

A stark white Imperial police car turned the corner, and Kanan and Hera's eyes met. A jolt passed through him and he understood. They had to deflect, and they had the beginnings of a plan. He tried to look as put out as possible, and Hera perched herself beside him. She scooted closer as the car approached.

He flexed his knuckles, the hairs on his arms standing up as the police slowed down to survey the wreck. The window rolled down to reveal two grunts whom Kanan was relieved not to recognize. The bigger of the pair leered at Hera from the driver’s seat before addressing Kanan.

"What’s going on here?"

"Just waiting for a tow," Kanan grunted.

The other officer looked at the wrecked Ghost. "Anything we can do?" he asked. It sounded like helping was the last thing he wanted to do.

Kanan jerked his thumb at Hera. "Not unless you can teach my girlfriend how to drive."

“I said I was sorry, baby,” she crooned, clutching his arm. 

"I was following her on the way back to my place and BAM! She backs into me!" He rammed one hand into the other to demonstrate, and Hera bit her lower lip.

He barely recognized her (but then again, he barely knew her). _Now is not the time to be floored by her acting skills_ , he reminded himself.

The thinner cop rolled his eyes at Hera. “Figures,” he replied, tossing Kanan a sympathetic look. “You want to file a report? If she nailed you, we can bring her in.” He sounded almost excited at the prospect. Kanan fought the urge to sneer and Hera’s fingers dug into his arm.

Never breaking character, she pouted up at him, batting her eyes. “It was an accident!”

"We’d prefer to handle this ourselves.” Kanan threw a possessive arm around Hera’s waist, well aware that they weren’t very convincing. Leaning in to get a look inside the car, he added with a wink, “She’s got about 69 ways she can make it up to me, if you catch my drift.”

The officer in the passenger seat sent Kanan a knowing look, but the driver was examining a tablet.

“Aresko, look.” The driver nudged his partner, pointing at the screen, then at Kanan. Or maybe at Hera. His partner’s eyes widened in recognition, and panic rose in Kanan’s stomach. The larger officer was already pulling out a two-way radio.

“Tua here,” said a scratchy voice over the speaker.

At that name, Kanan sprung to his feet and Hera’s expression darkened.

“Captain, it’s Grint. We got a situation over by the old downtown,” the officer reported.

Hera reached into her coat, but Kanan stopped her with a hand to her arm. He didn’t know what she had at stake, but he couldn’t afford any more attention. He just hoped Hera wasn’t as observant as she seemed.

He took slow steps towards the car, hands out in front of himself in feigned surrender, until he was sure Hera couldn’t see his face.

“Come on, guys, I’m sure we can work something out.” Keeping his tone light and his movements as subtle as possible, he reached out through the Force, bending the officers’ minds to his will. They relaxed as he leaned into their car and whispered to them, “Never mind, false alarm.”

It was the first time he had willingly tapped into the Force in over a year, and the realization left him feeling queasy and lightheaded. Maybe it was just the hangover coming back. He pulled his head from the car, trying not to think about it too hard.

“Never mind, false alarm,” echoed Grint. “Let’s go.”

Aresko nodded, and they drove off with the radio still squawking.

Hera was dumbstruck. She slid down from the car hood, watching the police round the corner. “What did you say to them?”

“Why did you reach for your blaster?” he countered, using her own tactic against her. She frowned but dropped her question, and Kanan whipped out his phone to check the time.

“Tua might send backup,” she said, still eyeing him with suspicion.

“I don’t want to hang around and find out. How long did you say that tow was going to be?”

“Too long.” Hera grimaced at her poor Ghost. “Your car won’t start at all?”

Kanan was already headed for her passenger seat. “Not even a little.”

“Fine,” she grunted, getting into the driver’s seat. “But this is going to cost you extra.”

The length of his tab was starting to get worrying, but once he was in the car, he shrugged. “Better credits than blood.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” Hera said, glancing his way as she engaged the clutch, coaxing her car to start. “I hope you got everything you need out of your car.”

Kanan shrugged again. “Not my car.”

Hera took off (as fast as she could with a grumbling engine) down a side street. “Haven’t been here that long and you already know Captain Tua?”

Kanan answered her with silence. There was no point in asking why she knew the Captain; neither of them were going to answer.

She sighed. “Look, I can take you as far as my shop but then you’re on your own.”

“Hey, what about my car?” Kanan protested. He couldn’t just leave his car in the street for the Imperials to find. If they didn’t kill him for that, Vizago’s thugs would.

“That was _your_ problem, remember?” She didn’t look away from the road, taking slow and careful turns down deserted roads to avoid further damage and attention.

 _So much for her bleeding heart_ , he thought. “Well, what about your tow? This Zeb is still on his way, isn’t he?”

Hera swore and pulled her phone from her pocket, leaving her blaster in full view. Using the voice command function, she made the call.

Zeb’s voice on the line was gruff. “Hera? Is s-something wrong?”

“Change of plans. Head back.” Hera’s voice left no room for argument, but that had never stopped Kanan.

“Head back? If they find that car, it won’t just be my problem. They’ll find you, too,” Kanan pointed out. There was no guarantee of that, but Hera owed him one after the stunt he pulled to get them out. He just couldn’t explain why.

Zeb cut in. “Who is that?”

“Nobody,” Hera grunted. “Belay that order. You’re picking up an Expedient at the location instead. Hurry up, but keep a low profile.”

Zeb groaned on the other end of the line. "An Expedient? I’m not running a towing service!”

This was news to Kanan, and Hera’s eyes flicked in his direction. “Yeah, well, we don’t have a choice. Our new investor has attracted some attention.”

“Investor? What are you talking about?” There was a loud sigh over the speaker. “Let me just call Sabine.”

The car lurched forward as Hera’s foot thumped the gas pedal. “Sabine? Garazeb Orrelios, did you send _Sabine_ to get my car?”

Kanan realized that what he had heard up to this moment was just mild irritation. Now, Hera was angry. He almost felt bad for Zeb.

“She was bored, and I thought she could use the practice!”

“She only got her license two weeks ago!” Hera shook her head. “Never mind, there’s no time for this. I’ll call her.”

Zeb tried to protest, but Hera hung up on him and immediately made her next call.

Music blasted over the phone speaker, and the voice that answered sounded younger and more feminine. “What’s up, Hera?”

Hera wasted no time on pleasantries. “Sabine, where are you?”

The music got quieter before Sabine responded, sounding less cheerful. “So, I guess you talked to Zeb. I’m just coming down Gorse, I’ll be right there.”

Hera frowned. “How are you already on Gorse?”

There was a pause before Sabine spoke again. “I took a shortcut.” Kanan couldn’t help but laugh out loud, and Sabine noticed. “Who was that?”

“It’s a long story,” Hera said. “Look, you might have some Imperial eyes on you. I think it’d be best if you went back to the shop.”

Sabine’s voice was calm. “There are eyes everywhere. I got this, just sit tight. Besides, it’s not safe to talk and drive.”

The way Hera’s forehead wrinkled in concern (not for him, of course) was touching. “I’m on my way back in my car,” she explained. “We had to leave the other car there, and I won’t have you risk your life for that piece of junk.”

“Ouch!” Kanan put in, as if she had insulted him and not his car. She responded with a dark look.

“Oh, is that the jackass who hit you? Hi, Jackass!” Sabine’s voice was bright, and Kanan liked her spirit. She was saving Vizago’s car and his skin, so he figured he had better be nice to her.

“Hi, Sabine!” he said with a grin. Hera glared at him, but Sabine’s voice came over the line.

“Ooh, that must be your Expedient, Jack. It’s not looking so hot. Sure you don’t want me to just take care of the evidence?”

Kanan had no idea what she meant, but he and Hera shouted, “No!” in unison.

Sabine groaned. “Fine. This will just take a minute.”

Hera massaged her temple with the corner of her phone. “Just be careful!”

“Aren’t I always?” And with that, Sabine ended the call.

Hera’s mouth was set in a thin line as she drove, and Kanan tried to quell his curiosity. This underground towing/garage operation of hers was covering something, but it was none of his business. All that mattered was that Sabine got his car out of there before the Empire could follow.

“Nice acting back there,” he said, desperate to change the subject.

“I’d say the same to you, but it didn’t seem like much of a stretch.” It was an insult, but the corner of her mouth was twitching.

“This isn’t my first go-around,” he said, recalling her words.

“Really? Because as I recall, it didn’t work.”

Just when he was regretting the course of the conversation, Hera’s phone rang. She answered before the first ring finished.

“Sabine?”

“Tell the jackass I got his car. No eyes as far as I can tell. I’ll see you back at the shop.”

Hera nodded. “Stay out of sight. And try not to beat me back. The last thing you need is to get pulled over with that piece of junk.”

“Ugh, you’re telling me,” Sabine replied. “I threw a tarp over it—I wouldn’t be caught dead with this hot mess.”

“You’re both doing this on purpose.” But there was a smile on Kanan’s face as he protested.

Hera ignored him. “Just don’t get caught.” 

“Roger that.”

Once Sabine hung up, some of the tension left Hera’s shoulders. But without the distraction, Kanan’s curiosity reawakened.

“So why do you drive such a fancy car? Wouldn’t it be cheaper to drive something else?” Cars were a safe subject.

She laughed for real this time, and for a moment, he forgot that he had only just met her.

“What, should I borrow cars like you?” To his surprise, she went on. “I don’t exactly have a lot of options. Besides, my Ghost is _all_ mine.”

He watched her thin fingers as she gave the steering column a gentle stroke. _Oh, to be that car._ But he brushed the thought aside.

“I get it.” Or at least he wanted to.

Kanan didn’t put much stock in possessions, but in her sentimental gaze, he saw the appeal of having something to cherish. The way her jaw was still set with worry for her friends (or family, or whatever Zeb and Sabine were) reminded him of something he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“So where is your shop? Are we close?”

“We would be if you hadn’t totaled my car.” Her light tone made him feel lighter, but she seemed determined not to look at him.

“Hey, if I hadn’t hit you, we never would have met. It’s almost like it was meant to be,” he joked.

“Don’t I feel lucky.” And the tone was gone. Maybe it was best to just get to business.

Kanan propped his arm up against the window. “You said I’m your new investor. I can find another shop, but it sounds like you need the credits.” At this, she finally looked his way, and he could tell she regretted her words. She had shown her hand, or at least part of it. “Hey, I’m just here to pay you. This business with the Imperials? I won’t ask if you won’t.”

They were back at that impasse.

“You’re not really in the position to deal, Jarrus.” Hera let out a sigh. “But neither am I. You’ll pay for my car, and after that, you’ll pay Zeb to work on yours.”

Kanan nodded, trying to hide his anxiety. She had to know he didn’t have the kind of money to make that happen right away, and that he was short on time. “Fair enough, unless you’re expecting a lump sum.”

“We can work out installments. As long as you make your payments and keep your mouth shut, I’ll do the same.” She tapped her nails on the gearstick. “But if you bail on me or I get wind that you ratted me out, I can’t promise my silence.”

She hesitated, but he didn’t doubt her words. They were both gambling.

“Hey, I probably saved our lives,” he pointed out, trying to lighten the mood.  “A shootout would not have ended well.”

“Those guys couldn’t have taken me down. You saved your own skin.” After a moment, she added, “But you got me out of there, too, even if I’m still not sure how you did it.”

He sent a mischievous smile in her direction. “Maybe if Zeb does good work, I’ll tell you.”

“If I wanted to know that badly, I’d do the repairs myself.”

He may not have enticed her, but when she smiled back at him, he could imagine telling her everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Hera definitely drives stick, and Kanan's driving leaves something to be desired. What even is canon?


End file.
